Velvet
by AmethystB
Summary: Coke makes her feel like she's flying. She tries heroin and she drowns. Her heart slows and the ocean comes, softly at first to strangle her unawares in its depths. [Laura, before her death.]


**A/N: **This is about the darkest thing I've ever written. Inspired by the events of FWWM and Sheryl Lee's dark performance. Poor, poor Laura Palmer.

As a quick PSA, I don't endorse drug use and I hope that message is carried in the story. I also don't own Twin Peaks and have not profited in the least by writing this.

Warnings for drug abuse, sexual situations and strong implications of sexual abuse.

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**Velvet**

**by AmethystB**

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Coke makes her feel like she's flying. She tries heroin and she drowns. The slip of a needle into skin and the hot drug pulses through her veins, like it's trying to smother her every fibre. She feels her heart race then slowly it turns in her chest, caged by rib bones that force it down when they tighten their hold, squeezing. Her heart slows and the ocean comes, softly at first to strangle her unawares in its depths.

Laura wakes with her eyes wide. Her body grips itself to the bed she's on and she still feels like she's sinking, taken by the ocean. She's naked and suddenly cold, the heat of the drug now chilled in her blood.

Blackie runs a thin bone of a finger along her cheek and Laura shivers. "How was _that _ride, sweet cheeks? Did it make you feel alive?"

_Deader_, Laura says in her head.

Looking up she can see Blackie's curls are mussed, tangled in places Laura knows her fingers once were. It doesn't bother her Blackie's a woman. It doesn't bother her Blackie's a pimp. It makes sense to Laura because her whole life she's felt like a whore.

"Mm hmm," she mumbles a response then bites her lip, hoping to draw blood.

Blackie's silky voice interrupts. "Get dressed. I need to prepare this room for tonight."

"For Ben Horne?" The words slip out as if she's possessed, but Laura knows a part of her always has been.

"There's a new girl," the other woman confirms with a knowing glance.

Blackie disappears from the room and Laura wonders if she was ever there. The sudden silence is a comfort to her ragged soul but her heart falls when she looks around the red room, knowing there is no comfort for a vacant soul. The cushioned walls and the sickly sweet smell of decorative flowers churns her empty stomach, the room expanding as a sick feeling reaches through her skin to flush her out.

With her body dead weight she heaves both legs over the edge of the bed, the effort enough to exhaust the vibrating nerves inside her. Laura sees her metal case alongside her underwear on the floor and picking it up she blanches with anticipation.

She draws two even lines of white on the inside of the case, the open mirrored lid gazing back at her. A smeared lipstick smile mouths _fuck you _to its reflection before the lines disappear and the coke rushes through her brain. It lights a fire and burns everything but it makes her feel so good.

It's a moment she relishes and the world in flames is left in ruin in her wake. She burns everything, burns it all down, burns Him out. Not god. _Him_. For a bright, brief moment he's gone and she's saved.

But the moment burns until it simmers, fades out. Flame extinguished, salvation buried, and Laura knows she isn't saved and never will be. She'll die soon, unclean. She'll die at his hands and he'll have won his sick game, but he'll never have her and she'll take that victory to her grave.

He's touched her, fucked her, ruined her, but she'll never let him take her.

"Oh, _god_…" she cries, crying loudly because the nerves inside her want out, terrified of suffocation, of eternal drowning.

She screams and screams and Blackie tells her not to come back. She wipes a finger across her nostril and tastes the powder. She dresses in underwear and a leather jacket and is left in the woods, frozen and jacked up with a lipstick smile.

Jangled nerves want release but crave a hit and it's overpowering in the end. She lights a cigarette, drags and blows a smoke ring. Cuts another line on her case. Takes the hit and slides down the length of a thick Canadian fig. She imagines she's flying and almost believes it when she loses consciousness. She dreams of angels' wings and a white light and a handsome man in a dark suit. She whispers to him her secrets and he smiles when she kisses him.

"_My father killed me…"_

She wakes screaming.

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**A/N: **Reviews are lovely and appreciated, feedback is encouraged.


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